


The Road Not Taken

by Clea2011



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Canon Era, Curses, M/M, hostages, merlin forced to use magic, strapped to a moving vehicle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 08:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29871669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clea2011/pseuds/Clea2011
Summary: Merlin never reached Camelot. Instead he is forced to work as a lowly servant in the castle of Essetir's king, Cenred.At least he is until Cenred discovers that Merlin has magic. Magic that Cenred can put to good use...
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 147
Collections: Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 11, Merlin Bingo, The Melee Challenge





	The Road Not Taken

**Author's Note:**

> Written for HC Bingo February challenge for the prompts Strapped to a moving vehicle, hostages (wild card), cursed, septicaemia. Also for Merlin Bingo square Hostages. And for the Melee challenge prompt Rain.  
> Not betaed. Posted with 50 minutes to spare on the HC bingo deadline so horribly, horribly rushed towards the end but it'll have to do. I might tidy it up once I'm not sitting here at 9.15am having pulled an all nighter. Again.

Spring came early that year, the sun warming the land quickly after the snows had passed. It would be a good harvest that year, Hunith thought.

Her son, Merlin, would not be there to see it though. The thought of not seeing him every day tugged at her heart, but it was for the best. She had already left it too long. Merlin had magic, like his father, and needed someone to teach him how to use it. Someone to teach him how to _hide_ it. Magic was both a gift and a curse. There had been another near miss the week before, when Merlin and his friend Will had been up in Old Man Simmons’ orchard. The apple blossom had turned _blue._ There was talk of burning the trees down, until the flowers had returned to their natural pink the following day. No doubt it had been Will’s idea, but Merlin was no better. They thought they were so funny, those boys.

Being boys wouldn’t save them if King Cenred found out about it. Better to send Merlin away to a trusted friend rather than wait for word to reach the king, and for someone to come looking for an unknown sorcerer. 

“Have you ever been to Camelot, Mother?” Merlin asked as she packed a bag for him to take on his travels. 

“Once, long ago,” she admitted. 

“Was my father there?”

Sometimes her boy looked so much like his father, that curious, enquiring expression. “It was during the great purge, Merlin, I was only there briefly.” Hunith lowered her gaze, aware that she hadn’t answered the question. But yes, Balinor had been there. They’d both fled from Uther’s rage, Uther’s treachery. If it wasn’t for Gaius they would have both died. “Now, I don’t want you to eat all this at once. You’ve got a long journey ahead of you.”

The pie, carefully wrapped, probably wouldn’t last beyond Merlin’s first meal, and she had little hope for the bread and cheese surviving the day. It was a three day way, two if he didn’t dawdle too much. 

“King Uther hates magic,” Merlin pointed out. “This man, Gaius, if he knows magic why does he stay there?”

“I believe he has an agreement with the king to never practice magic,” Hunith told him. She saw the disgruntled expression that Merlin pulled on hearing that, and hid a smile. “Gaius will look after you. You can trust him.”

“But if he can’t practice magic how can he teach me?”

Hunith sighed. There were a few things that she wouldn’t miss. The endless questions that always had difficult answers would be top of the list. “Well you’ll just have to be very careful, won’t you? And remember you’re an apprentice physician, not an apprentice sorcerer. This is a good opportunity, Merlin.”

“Don’t mess it up,” he finished for her. “I know. And I won’t. And I’ll visit when I can, before the winter.”

Hunith doubted that, but smiled anyway. “I’ll look forward to it. Just send me letters, Merlin, so that I know you’re safe.”

It wasn’t a lot to ask.

\---

Merlin had been walking for two hours, but was sure that it felt more like six. It was definitely time to sit down and make a start on the pie, he decided.

It was a sunny spring day, and the road to Camelot was quite busy. Traders passed him, moving swiftly along the road with their horses and carts, quickly disappearing into the distance. There were lone riders, messengers galloping past in a cloud of dust, or the occasional knight heading for the court of Camelot. And the same in the other direction, everyone moving faster than Merlin. Of course, that was to be expected. He might catch up with slower walkers, and met one or two going the other way, but mostly he was passed by faster travellers who ignored him.

Apart from one knight, heading for Essetir, who had stopped very briefly and asked where Merlin was heading.

“Camelot,” Merlin had answered, thinking no more of it. Essetir and Camelot were at peace, even if they weren’t particularly friendly. “I’m to work as an apprentice at court.”

“But you’re coming from Essetir?”

“Yes… there’s a family friend at Camelot.”

The knight had raised an eyebrow, then rode on without saying anything more. 

It was one of those encounters that left you with a slightly uncomfortable feeling, as if someone had been horrible but you weren’t sure how or why. Still, Merlin had tried to just shrug it off. Things were good, he was about to start a whole new chapter of his life. And so soon enough Merlin had forgotten about the incident.

The lands where the borders of Camelot and Essetir met were peppered with hills and valleys. It made for a harder journey on foot than it might have done but the views from the highest points of the hills were magnificent. It was at the top of one that he stopped for his lunch, sitting a little away from the road and looking out across the valley. 

The Camelot border had to be down there somewhere, though it was hard to tell exactly where. Merlin didn’t think that he’d crossed yet, not from the route his mother had carefully written out for him, but it wouldn’t be far off. He read through it again, trying to guess exactly how far along he had come. There would be a fork in the road – he hadn’t reached that yet – and that would be practically at the Camelot border. The road to the left would be the one he wanted, the other heading off up through Essetir to eventually reach Mercia. 

The pie was good. So good that he chose to ignore his mother’s instructions and scoffed the whole thing. Less to carry, he reasoned. And perhaps as he was so full he could save the bread till the morning? 

Full up, with the sun shining down on him, it was hard not to give in to the temptation to have a nap. It would only be for a few minutes, just to let his lunch go down. And then, refreshed, he’d walk at twice the speed and be well into Camelot long before nightfall. 

That was Merlin’s reasoning at least. And like many things it seemed a good idea at the time.

\---

“Arthur, if I might have a word?”

Prince Arthur of Camelot had patience with few people and respect for an even smaller number. Gaius, the elderly court physician, was someone who fell into that miniscule group. And as Arthur had finished training with the knights and beat every single one of them in mock combat, he was in a good mood. It had been a surprise to find Gaius awaiting Arthur’s return to his rooms, but not overly unusual. There would be something that Gaius wanted to talk to Arthur about rather than his father. Or, more likely, that he wanted Arthur to raise with King Uther rather than do so himself.

“What is it?”

“It’s something that I don’t really want to bother the king with.”

As Arthur had guessed. Something that Arthur’s father would dismiss out of hand then. Much like Uther often did with Arthur himself. Gaius and Arthur both knew where they stood and made the best of it. Arthur understood that very well. 

“Tell me.”

Gaius hesitated, and Arthur immediately knew that whatever it was that Gaius wanted, it might well need to remain private.

Morris, Arthur’s spineless weasel of a manservant had made his usual hash of removing Arthur’s armour. It was probably time to start looking for a new one. Someone who wasn’t quite so toadying and desperate to please. Someone competent. Anyone, really. Arthur waved him aside. 

“Go and clean all that, Morris. Try not to lose any of it this time.”

Morris scuttled off. Arthur winced as he heard a loud clatter outside his door, the sound of Morris dropping and probably denting his armour.

“That only keeps me alive, I suppose,” Arthur sighed, settling down in a chair and gesturing for Gaius to do the same. “Nothing important. So what is it that you want me to do?”

“It’s just… you perhaps recall that I was expecting an apprentice to arrive this month? The son of an old friend?”

Arthur vaguely recalled some mention of it. “The boy from Cenred’s kingdom? Father wasn’t happy about that.”

“No. Well, it’s been several days since he was supposed to arrive and there’s been no sign. I confess I am a little concerned. I’ve had a letter from his mother this morning. She asks after her son. He left Ealdor on the agreed date.”

Arthur nodded. “So he’s gone missing on his way here.”

“It would seem so.”

“And you want me to search for him?”

“I thought that perhaps you and some of the knights might be on patrol…”

“Just say yes,” Arthur advised. 

“Yes, I was hoping that you would see your way to doing that.”

Arthur didn’t really have anything better to do. It was a sort of quest and he always enjoyed those. And Gaius looked so worried. Small wonder as the poor boy was probably dead in a ditch somewhere, robbed of whatever pitiful items he might have had on him.

“I’ll lead a search party first thing in the morning,” Arthur promised. 

\---

Merlin had received a rude awakening from his nap. 

The knight he’d spoken to earlier, along with a couple of others, had returned. Merlin found himself jolted awake by a painful kick to his side, then he was dragged over to a cart and thrown in.

“King’s orders,” the knight growled, fastening a chain around Merlin’s wrists. “Nobody from his kingdom goes to work for Uther! Damn traitor!”

Merlin struggled and protested but it was to no avail. He tried to reach for his magic but there was nothing there. The chains burned painfully when he attempted it. Cold iron. He’d heard about that and how it could damped magic. It had to be coincidence, Cenred’s knights couldn’t possibly know. They probably used the same chains for all prisoners.

As the cart moved off, rattling uncomfortably down the stony road, Merlin looked around. There were dark stains on the floor of the cart, old stains. It was probably blood, he realised. It seemed darker around the areas where there were empty shackles fixed to the edges of the cart. It didn’t bode well for Merlin’s future prospects.

It was a miserable journey. There was no way to sit comfortably in the cart, not with his wrists chained up just above his head. He felt every pothole and rock that the cart went over, jarring his body and aggravating the existing injury in his side from where he had been kicked.

As far as Merlin was aware it wasn’t illegal in Essetir to go and work in a neighbouring kingdom. Perhaps it had been unwise of him to say to a knight that he was actually going to another court but even so it wasn’t as if Merlin would have valuable information to share. No, seeing the state of the vehicle that he was trapped in, Merlin realised that he was probably going to be sold into slavery. It was the most likely option.

Or perhaps King Cenred had passed some new law that morning banning his people from leaving the kingdom, and Merlin was just the first unlucky soul to fall foul of it? Slavery might be better, at least he would keep his head and could at some point use his magic and escape.

But really all Merlin wanted at that point was for the cart to stop while there were still a few small areas of his body not bruised. 

And eventually the cart did stop. The knights unchained him and set him on his feet. It was all Merlin could do to stand up, battered as he felt.

“Kitchens are that way,” the knight who had originally found him said. “You can go work there. Better than Camelot. Tell Cook that Sir Valiant sent you. She’s expecting you.”

“I’m working in the kitchen?” Merlin asked puzzledly. “What, as a servant?”

“Well a scrawny little thing like you is hardly going to be a knight!” Valiant told him, and the other knights laughed. “What did you think was going to happen?”

Merlin decided it was best not to put ideas of slavery or execution into their heads.

“I don’t know,” he offered, trying to look as inoffensive as possible. 

“Well you do now. Off with you! Camelot indeed! You’re lucky the king didn’t want your head when he heard!”

Merlin resolved to keep as far from Cenred as possible. Escape immediately probably wasn’t wise, he had only a vague idea of where Cenred’s castle was situated, and anyway people would be expecting him to do so. No, he would go to the kitchens as instructed and work.

For a short while, at least. And then he’d find a way to escape.

\---

It had been a year since Merlin had vanished.

Hunith knew that it was hopeless, that he had probably been robbed and killed, his body rotting away never to be found. But still she nursed the faint hope that one day her darling boy might return. He had magic, after all. Perhaps he’d found some way to survive. It was the same faint hope that she always clung to about his father as well.

Gaius had ridden over himself to tell her the news. A long journey for the old man, and a mark of how much he cared about her. With him had been the young prince of Camelot, a handsome man who had been all kind politeness. Whether that would have been the case had she not been Gaius’ friend, Hunith wasn’t sure. But Arthur had been charming, and had been the one leading all the searches. 

Arthur had no doubt searched because Gaius had asked him to, but that didn’t matter. It was still so very kind of him to do that for someone he didn’t even know. Her Merlin would have liked him, she was sure of that. 

Will had been rude to Arthur, but that was Will for you. He could never bear any kind of noble. And that hadn’t stopped him offering to join the search. Will hadn’t stopped searching, always questioning any strangers who passed through Ealdor, sometimes heading out himself hoping to find some trace of his friend. 

Merlin had vanished as though into thin air. Almost like magic. But sadly that wasn’t the case. So she had tried to get on with her life, heartbroken at the loss of her boy. 

And then, one day in late spring, things changed. That was the day that the riders arrived from Essetir and Hunith left Ealdor for good.

\---

The kitchens of Essetir weren’t the best place to work, but there were plenty worse places to be. Merlin had kept his head down for the most part, trying not to annoy anyone who appeared to be in any kind of authority over him (which did seem to be almost everyone). The biggest challenge was attempting to control his innate clumsiness – a particular challenge in a job where he often had to carry dishes of food around.

Still, he survived mostly unscathed, at least for the first year.

Not everyone in Essetir castle was unfriendly. Merlin made a few friends amongst the other servants, at least those who were tasked with similar menial tasks as himself. Sefa was one, a quiet maid who seemed frightened even of her own shadow. She’d appeared at the castle a month or so after Merlin, thin and hungry, desperate for work. She volunteered little information about herself and spent most days on her hands and knees, scrubbing floors, head down. Despite his own situation not being much better Merlin felt sorry for her and did his best to engage her in conversation or sneak her pieces of food he’d managed to steal from the waste that was returned from the king’s table.

King Cenred wasted a great deal of food. Sometimes Merlin helped clear dishes from the table that still had enough food on them to feed all of Ealdor for a week. The king lived a life of extravagant wastefulness whilst his subjects often starved. Camelot, Merlin supposed, would not have been like that. Or at least not as bad. He told Sefa as much, when the pair of them were sitting one evening in the kitchen yard, with another friend, Daegal, tucking into bread and cheese that had barely been touched and was still fairly fresh.

“You shouldn’t speak of Camelot,” Daegal warned, looking around warily in case anyone had heard. “You know that, Merlin.”

Merlin knew. He’d been lucky the one time he’d been overheard by the wrong person – it had been by the castle steward who’d boxed his ears and put him on chamber pot emptying duties for a month. It could have been much worse. Cenred hated Uther and his kingdom with a passion. It was the reason Merlin was there. Had he lied about where he was going then Sir Valiant would have thought no more of it. The knight certainly wouldn’t have arrived in Essetir and mentioned to the king that one of his subjects was defecting. 

“King Uther isn’t a kind man either,” Sefa suddenly volunteered. 

Merlin was instantly interested. “Have you been there?” he asked. “To…”—he glanced at Daegal, then continued in a whisper so quiet it was barely audible – “Camelot, I mean.”

“Shh!” Daegal warned again. “Merlin!”

“For a while,” Sefa told them. “I moved on.”

“In the court though?” Merlin persisted. “What was it like? Did you know the physician, Gaius?”

“Not really.” Sefa shrugged and kept on eating.

“Does King Uther really kill sorcerers?” Merlin asked. “I heard he has a row of heads on spikes up on the walls of Camelot.”

“Merlin!” Daegal hissed. “Shhh!”

“Yes, Merlin,” a man’s voice broke into their conversation, “you should listen to your friend. Except it’s too late. You really have got a big mouth, haven’t you?”

The three of them looked up in horror as Sir Valiant stepped out of the shadows and stood over them. 

“Now I’m wondering what the king is going to say when he hears that he’s got a spy from Camelot working in his kitchens.”

“I’m not a spy,” Merlin protested.

“Oh, I know.” Valiant nodded towards Sefa, who seemed to shrink in on herself a little more. “It’s this one the king’s going to want to torture and execute.”

Sefa gave a little sob of fear, pressing her back against the wall as if hoping it would fall in and allow her to escape.

“She’s not a spy either,” Merlin said, getting to his feet. He’d grown a little over the past year, he realised. When he’d first met Sir Valiant they were the same height but now Merlin was slightly taller. That was where the advantage ended though – Sir Valiant was broader, stronger.

“King Cenred won’t see it that way,” Valiant warned. “Out of my way, boy. You, girl, get up, you’re coming with me.”

Merlin looked down at Sefa who was crying bitterly, not making any move to get up. Daegal was regarding her worriedly but made no move to either support her or to side with the knight.

“She’s not harming anyone,” Merlin argued. “She left Camelot, it’s not as if she loved it and wanted to stay.”

Valiant gave Merlin a hefty shove, sending him sprawling, then reached down and grabbed hold of Sefa’s arm, pulling the struggling girl to her feet.

“Please don’t…” Sefa begged, trying to wriggle free but to no avail. “Please…”

“Let her go!” Merlin demanded, scrambling to his feet. “She’s done nothing!”

“You want to join her, Camelot lover?” Valiant growled. “Don’t think the king won’t remember you if I remind him. The traitor who was heading for a rival court.”

Merlin knew he couldn’t best the knight physically, he just wasn’t strong enough. Over the past year he’d struggled to hide his magic. Sometimes it had appeared at inopportune moments because he just didn’t know how to control it. That was what Gaius had been supposed to help him with. Perhaps if he’d reached Camelot he might have been more proficient in his magic use. Perhaps it wouldn’t always react so badly when he was angry or afraid. Perhaps it would have been under control.

Perhaps he wouldn’t have stood there in the kitchen yard, eyes blazing pure gold and hand outstretched, somehow managing to _push_ the knight away from Sefa, slamming him against the wall. Or perhaps he would have known how to kill, because then Sir Valiant might have still seen him use magic but wouldn’t have lived to tell the tale.

Merlin was still in shock from what he had done, but Valiant recovered faster. Cenred’s court contained plenty of magic users, it wasn’t as much of a shock as it might be elsewhere. And Valiant knew exactly how to deal with Merlin.

\---

When Merlin awoke he had a splitting headache.

He couldn’t even remember Valiant hitting him, though he supposed the knight must have knocked him out. There was blood on the straw bedding he was lying on, but when he moved his hands intending to reach up and touch his head he found his wrists chained to a post in the middle of the floor.

He’d been locked in a cell while he was unconscious, transported there none too gently if the bruises he could feel on his arms and legs were anything to go by. The cold iron around his wrists prevented any possibility of using his magic to try to escape. 

His mother had always been worried that one day Merlin’s magic would be discovered and that he’d be sent to work for the king. It had been a major factor in her decision to send him off to Camelot. Now it seemed that either he was going to find exactly why she had been so afraid.

It wasn’t a long wait. As soon as the guards noticed he was awake they alerted the king. And that was when Merlin’s troubles really began.

\---

Ari introduced himself as a druid with powerful magic who worked for Cenred. Merlin didn’t know what hold Cenred must have had over him, or how Ari came to be at Essetir. The druids were a peaceful people with no interest in the courts of kings and their power battles. 

At first Ari’s only purpose was to test Merlin’s magic. He freed Merlin briefly from the cold iron shackles, watching critically as Merlin’s magic rushed back.

“What can you do, boy?” he asked.

Merlin shrugged, non-committal. “Don’t know. I was never taught.” He supposed it was an innocent enough answer. 

“You were never taught?” Ari queried. “So where did this ability come from?”

“I was born with it.”

That was the wrong answer. There were a few short tests which as far as Merlin could see proved nothing, and then the shackles went back on, Ari left and Merlin was alone again. But only briefly. Within the hour Ari was back, this time standing at King Cenred’s side, both men down in the dungeons watching Merlin speculatively through the bars.

Merlin had seen Cenred before, from a safe distance. As a serving boy he had been beneath the king’s notice. But as a sorcerer he was suddenly of great interest.

“He appears to have little control over his power,” Ari commented. “It’s a natural power of a level I’ve never seen.”

“Show me,” Cenred demanded. 

“I would have to release him.”

“Well then do so. You’re supposed to be the most powerful druid, aren’t you? Some untrained boy isn’t going to best you. Or perhaps I should be looking to give him your job? How would your family feel about that?”

Judging by the fearful expression that flittered across Ari’s face, that answered the question of why a druid would be working for Cenred. Cenred was threatening his loved ones. Not that it made any difference to Merlin’s situation. In many ways it made things worse because there was no way that Ari was going to go against Cenred if that was the case.

“I would prefer to test him if we had some leverage,” Ari admitted. “He’s powerful and may well be lying about his level of control. So we should have something to control him. There was a serving girl, Sir Valiant mentioned? A girlfriend perhaps?”

Cenred shook his head of long greasy black hair “She ran off while Valiant was securing the boy. Too much trouble to find her. No, I have a better idea. You come from Ealdor, don’t you?” he said to Merlin.

Merlin shook his head.

“Lying won’t help you. I’ll send Valiant out at first light,” Cenred decided. “There will be family there, loved ones. It worked for you, after all,” he added with an unpleasant smile, slapping Ari on the back before heading off out of the dungeons.

Merlin prayed that his mother had left the village. But he knew the chances were slim.

\---

Arthur had all but forgotten about Gaius’ missing apprentice. It had been a year since he had led the searches at the elderly physician’s request. They’d found no trace of the boy, and eventually had gone to his home to break the news to his mother. Arthur had felt bad for the woman, and for Gaius, but there was really nothing he or anyone else could do. 

A particular low point of the trip had been the monarchy-hating young man that they had encountered in Ealdor. Arthur had been glad to ride away, hoping never to see him and his _opinions_ ever again.

So it was with some dismay that he found William of Ealdor sitting down in Gaius’ rooms, talking to the physician. Both Gaius and William looked up as Arthur came in. William didn’t look any more respectful than he had a year ago. Arthur supposed that he wasn’t going to be any more likeable either.

“Gaius,” Arthur greeted the old man. “I received a message that you wanted to see me?”

“Yes, thank you Arthur,” Gaius got to his feet. “I don’t know whether you remember Will from Ealdor?”

Arthur inclined his head towards Will in a single nod. “I do, yes.”

Will didn’t say anything offensive in return, just raised a hand in greeting. It was an improvement, Arthur supposed. 

“It was kind of you to search for Merlin, my missing apprentice,” Gaius continued. “Perhaps you also recall that when we visited Ealdor we met his mother?”

Arthur remembered the kindly woman who had tried so hard to hold back the tears. “Yes, Hunith wasn’t it? Poor woman. Has any trace ever been found of her son?”

“He’s at King Cenred’s court,” Will piped up. “An’ they took Hunith too!”

“Yes,” Gaius shuffled awkwardly. “It appears that for some reason Merlin ended up at Cenred’s court rather than at Camelot. This only came to light a few weeks back when knights turned up in Ealdor demanding the names of anyone in Merlin’s immediate family.”

“They threatened a little kid,” Will explained. “Said they’d run her through. Her mother gave up Hunith. Can’t really blame her.”

“But… why would they want Hunith?” Arthur wondered. “He’s just a peasant boy?”

Will snorted disgustedly and muttered something under his breath. Arthur supposed that it was probably best that he didn’t hear whatever it was.

“I don’t know, Arthur.” Gaius wasn’t quite meeting Arthur’s eyes. So there was something but whatever it was, Gaius wouldn’t tell. “I suppose there’s no chance that we could ask Uther for help? Hunith was a citizen of Camelot many years ago.”

“I doubt that will help, but I could try. He’s unlikely to want to risk an attack on a rival kingdom unless it’s for a very good reason. And I’m sorry, I liked Hunith but he’ll see it as an internal matter between Cenred and two of his citizens. Why did she leave Camelot anyway?”

“It was during the great purge,” Gaius admitted.

“She has magic? Father definitely won’t want to help,” Arthur was quite certain of that.

“No, but her lover did, she escaped with him.”

Arthur wasn’t stupid, he could see what had happened there. “Merlin’s father?”

“Yes,” Gaius admitted.

“I see.” And Arthur did. The mother would have been taken to control the magic user. “Well you know the policy on magic in Camelot, Gaius. My father will never agree to help. And short of declaring all-out war on Essetir, even if he did agree I don’t think there would be anything that we could do.”

“Knew it was a waste of time coming here!” Will snapped. “You nobles, you’re all the same with your fancy words and empty promises. When people really need help, you give nothing!”

“Camelot can’t help Hunith,” Arthur insisted. “If it was almost anything else we would try, but not this. It’s one citizen…”

“Two,” Will corrected. “It’s two citizens. Merlin as well.”

“Yes, two citizens of a rival kingdom. It would be an act of war to break into the castle to rescue them. And if we asked to have them handed over then Cenred would ensure my father knew he was gaining a magic user. Your friend Merlin would be burning in the courtyard the following dawn. Now, if there’s nothing else, I have things to do.”

“No, thank you for coming down,” Gaius sighed. “I knew there was probably nothing to be done, but I had to try.”

Arthur nodded. He’d do the same if it was a friend of his. But there really was nothing that anyone could do.

Ridiculous really. It wasn’t as if a peasant boy would have particularly strong magic.

\---

Ari was a good teacher, Hunith thought.

In another time, another place, her Merlin might have been glad to learn from him. But instead they were all prisoners. Ari had no more enthusiasm for being there than Merlin and Hunith did. His own family were away out of sight, perhaps locked up, or simply living their lives oblivious to the constant threat that they were under, an assassin living nearby ready to strike if needs be? 

Hunith was always there, always on display. Every single day a guard would escort her from the small cell where she was being held. She would sit at a distance and watch her pale, gaunt son be released from the iron that bound him. She would see his bloodied wrists where he must have tried to get himself free. Or perhaps it was the iron, reacting against his skin? It seemed to pain him when his magic was released. The training would be strengthening it, she supposed. Perhaps that made it worse each time it was freed, or more miserable when it was locked away from him. Not having magic herself, she could only imagine. 

It had always been her worst nightmare, someone finding how powerful her boy was and forcing him to use it as a weapon. Though even in worst case scenarios she had never imagined herself being used to force Merlin to comply. It was the worst thing, the knowledge that she was harming her son and whoever it was that his power would be used against. 

Soon the training would stop. And then Merlin would become Cenred’s latest and most deadly weapon.

In some ways she thought it was almost better when she’d thought he was dead. Better than sitting each day and watching her son suffer, knowing that she was the cause. And there was nothing at all she could do about it.

\---

Arthur hated the rain.

Rain made it hard to train with his knights, although Arthur insisted on continuing to do so. After all, battles wouldn’t stop just for a little rain. But it made things more dangerous – someone might slip at just the wrong moment, an unintentional slash of a sword… no, it wasn’t ideal weather to practice in.

And it was bad for morale too. The constant grey skies, armour rusting in the wet, the feeling that you would never be warm and dry again… Nonsense, that last part, but it was starting to feel that way.

He knew that the rain was needed for the crops in the fields and essential if they didn’t want the rivers to dry up like that summer when he was a boy. But it had been raining for a week and showed no sign of stopping. Far from drying up, the rivers were high, already starting to flood in some of the low-lying areas. It was a little concerning, but he supposed it couldn’t go on for much longer.

It did go on for longer.

One week stretched into two, then three. A month had passed, flooding had become a serious issue across the kingdom. Even on the higher ground, away from the lakes and rivers, there were reports coming in of crops rotting in the fields long before they’d come close to ready for harvest. Down in the valleys the fields were underwater. Livestock had drowned. _People_ had drowned.

Arthur and his knights no longer had time to waste on practice. They were all working every day, trying to build barriers against the floods. Sir Kay and Sir Leon had been swept downriver when the barrier he’d been helping with had collapsed. Leon had been lucky, he was swept towards an overhanging tree and managed to grab hold of a branch until they could help pull him out. Kay hadn’t been found.

Arthur stood in the throne room, having read the latest report out to his father. Those daily reports had fallen to Arthur. Nobody else dared incur King Uther’s wrath. As if it was their fault.

“We’re getting an increasing number of citizens taking refuge in Camelot,” Arthur added. He didn’t like to say just how many – the lower town was so crowded that it felt as if half the kingdom were there. It was the kind of report that seemed to throw Uther into a rage. 

“Close the gates to the upper town. We don’t have enough food as it is.”

“But they’ll starve, Father,” Arthur pointed out. 

Uther nodded. “And I regret that more than you could possibly know. But we will _all_ starve if this continues, Arthur.”

“We could go to our allies, ask for assistance?” Arthur suggested. He heard the hiss of Sir Bedivere’s sharp intake of breath behind him, knowing as well as Bedivere did just how kindly Uther would take that suggestion. But it was no time for pride.

“Camelot does not beg,” Uther snarled. “I wonder at you, Arthur. What kind of weak king will you be?”

“One who isn’t afraid to ask friends for help. Camelot is the only kingdom with this problem, others have food,” Arthur continued. It was hard, arguing with his father. But Arthur was cold and tired and still damp from working outside in the rain all day. 

King Uther had sat there in the throne room and done nothing. He’d probably eaten a hearty feast earlier despite the plight of his starving people. Arthur and Morgana had both been refusing to eat more than they needed, both of them feeling that they should go without at least a little when people were suffering so much. Morgana kept going down to the lower town with her maid, the pair of them trying to distribute food. It was dangerous, people were hungry and angry, desperate. Arthur insisted a couple of knights accompanied them, but it was still risky and grew moreso every day.

“If we ask for help we are showing our vulnerability. We’ll be attacked when we aren’t strong enough to defend ourselves.”

“I could ride to Gawant, speak to Godwyn,” Arthur persisted. “He’s your friend. He would help us.”

Uther shook his head, his expression darkening. “Arthur, do not persist with this nonsense. Gaius,” he turned to speak to the physician, “I have never known rain like this. Is there no way to tell when it will end?”

Gaius shuffled forward, to stand in front of the king. “Sire, I do not believe that this is a natural rainfall. As Arthur says, it is confined to Camelot. Normally a storm would move away, cross other kingdoms, but not this. It seems targeted.”

“Sorcery!” Uther exclaimed.

Arthur groaned inwardly, but tried to school his face into a neutral expression. He had no idea whether the storm was natural or not, but he knew that now the idea was in his father’s head that it was sorcery there would be no budging him until the source was found.

“Arthur, you’re to take your men and search the castle, search the whole of the upper and lower town too. You’ll root out this sorcerer and they’ll be put to death. Go to it!”

“We don’t know that they’re in Camelot,” Arthur began but Uther waved his protests aside.

“No. And that’s why you need to start searching. Go!”

There was no point in arguing with his father in that mood. Arthur did as he was bid. 

\---

King Cenred hated Camelot. Of that there was no question.

Merlin had spent yet another day calling on the elements, pushing rainclouds towards the neighbouring kingdom and then fixing them there. There were reports that Camelot was flooded, that people had lost their homes, their businesses, even their lives. Cenred loved it. Merlin despaired. He could not even bear to look over at his mother any more. She would be so ashamed of his weakness, of the monster she had raised. It was an added cruelty, forcing her to watch.

At least at the end of the day he was locked away in his cell and nobody could see the vile creature that he had become. The iron bindings on his wrists burned like fire, but Merlin felt that he deserved the pain. He’d caused the deaths of innocent people, doomed countless others to a miserable existence. He deserved nothing good. 

Beneath the manacles, his skin peeled and bled. The wounds were never given a chance to heal and were starting to look red and angry, hot to the touch. Perhaps they would get infected, he thought. Perhaps he would sicken and die, and that would be the end of it? And if he wasn’t around, maybe they would let his mother go home.

He knew in his heart that Cenred would probably just order her killed, her usefulness to him expired.

It started to feel warm in his cell at night sometimes. Merlin thought he might be a little feverish. But every morning when his magic was released it seemed to strengthen him again and the sickness would go away. It seemed there would be no escape.

\---

The search of Camelot had, unsurprisingly, uncovered no sorcerers.

Arthur had not expected it to. He had his own suspicions about the identity of the person attacking Camelot. He couldn’t voice that suspicion in front of his father, but as soon as the fruitless search was completed he headed down to Gaius’ rooms.

“Gaius,” Arthur marched straight in, not bothering to knock. “That boy, the one from Ealdor, the one with magic. The one Cenred has prisoner.”

“Merlin,” Gaius supplied helpfully.

“Yes, him. You know him.”

“Well,” Gaius shuffled uncomfortably, “I know his mother. I’ve not seen the boy since he was an infant.”

“But you write to his mother. You had letters, last year, that was how you knew he’d left the village. So, just how powerful a sorcerer is he?”

“Sire, I couldn’t possibly…”

“Gaius,” Arthur cut him off, “this flooding of our land started not long after Hunith was taken. Now perhaps that’s a coincidence, and perhaps this Merlin can only bless the corn or something, but I suspect not. Cenred wouldn’t go to the trouble of getting leverage over him unless it was worth doing. So, I ask again, how powerful?”

Gaius appeared for a few moments to be wrestling inwardly with some dilemma. Then he sighed, as if admitting defeat. “I don’t know, Arthur. But I would guess, given his father’s ability, that young Merlin would be very powerful indeed.”

“And you were bringing him here?”

“To defend Camelot and to help him avoid using his magic. You know that I have renounced the use of magic, Arthur. The intention was to teach him to do the same. To stop something like this happening.”

It was a confirmation of sorts. Arthur pursed his lips, regarding Gaius thoughtfully. “So you think it’s him?”

“I really don’t know. But it could well be. It’s elemental magic, something his father also had some skill in. I don’t know of anyone else who has ever had that particular sort of power.”

“Thank you for finally being honest with me,” Arthur said. “I won’t tell my father, he’ll likely try to declare war on Cenred. At this stage it would be a war we would lose.”

“So what _will_ you do, Arthur?” Gaius asked, his face serious.

“The only thing I can do. I’m going to have to disobey my father and go to Essetir. But I’m not going to start a war if I can help it. Sneaking in with a couple of knights is likely to be a lot easier and cause less bloodshed than storming the castle.”

He hoped he sounded more confident about that than he actually felt.

\---

Arthur rode out at first light, only Sir Leon and Sir Bedivere at his side. They were his most trusted and capable knights, the ones he’d always choose to have near him in a crisis. They knew where they were going, and why, though Arthur hadn’t told them that it was to find the same young man that they’d been searching for a year earlier. 

He’d left a message at Camelot that they were following a lead on the sorcery, which wasn’t untrue but omitted the fact that they were heading into the heart of Essetir to do so. They were travelling in disguise, civilian clothing rather than armour with the easily recognisable emblems of Camelot.

The plan was to leave the horses at an inn in the lower town, then walk on up to the castle itself. If anyone asked then they had come to the castle looking to sign up as knights of Essetir. It wasn’t as if they would fail to show skill in that particular area of work if called to do so. Of course, that story would be unlikely to cover them once they were searching through the castle, but that was a different problem.

Walking up to the castle was surprisingly easy. Arthur kept his face hidden beneath a hooded cloak, whilst the other two knights had probably never been seen out of uniform by anyone in Essetir and could move fairly freely. 

“If only we’d known their security was so poor,” Bedivere commented as they crossed the courtyard. “We could have attacked years ago!”

“Camelot probably isn’t much better,” Arthur pointed out. “There’s little to stop anyone reaching the inner courtyard.”

In Essetir, however, that was not the case. As they walked over the drawbridge they could see the way ahead blocked. Not with a wall or guards, but with a crowd of townspeople, all watching something that was going on in the central courtyard beyond.

“What do you think’s going on?” Leon asked.

“Only one way to find out,” Arthur decided.

He pushed his way through to the front of the crowd, Leon and Bedivere following. And there, in the middle of the courtyard, was their sorcerer. There was no question of it. His eyes were glowing molten gold, his thin, blood-streaked arms stretched up to the heavens as if imploring them to take him. Words were spilling from his mouth in a language Arthur didn’t understand. And over to one side of the courtyard, kneeling with a blade at her throat, was Hunith.

“He’s just a boy,” Leon exclaimed. 

“Not just a boy,” a woman standing next to Leon in the crowd said. “That’s the sorcerer who’s been drowning Camelot for the past month.”

“Really?” Arthur replied. “King Cenred must honour him greatly. I suppose the boy lives in a palace all of his own!”

The woman snorted. “Hardly! My husband’s one of the guards here. The boy’s locked in the dungeons every night. Ungrateful brat. See that woman over there, on her knees?”

Leon nodded. “I was wondering who that was. Is she a criminal?”

“She’s his _mother_. Both of them traitors to the king. He didn’t want to do his duty to his king and attack Camelot. King Cenred had to threaten his mother. Both of them come out like this every day and then it’s back to the cells with them. I’d be ashamed, if it was my son and he was like that.”

Arthur rather thought he’d feel the opposite. He looked out over the courtyard at Hunith and Merlin. Neither looked at the other, both no doubt feeling desperate and guilty at what Merlin was being forced to do. And it was sickening knowing that the spell being cast right in front of him would be drowning Camelot even further in rain.

The three of them watched and waited. Eventually Merlin finished his spells and was chained up.

“Cold iron,” Bedivere noted. “Works on sorcerers, keeps them under control.”

Merlin’s wrists looked bloodied and raw, even from a distance, Arthur thought. He kept watching, noting where the pair were taken, through a door on the far side of the courtyard, under the main steps. It was almost certain to lead to the dungeons.

The spectacle over, the crowd dispersed. But it was most of the information that Arthur needed. All they had to do was wait until dusk, when they would hopefully be able to slip into the castle in the poor light. 

And then it would be a case of whether luck was with them.

\---

Merlin lay down miserably in his cell. Already he could feel his arms getting heavier, the sickness coursing through his veins. His magic wasn’t working as well as it once had. It didn’t seem to be healing him so completely during the day. Now he felt feverish and sick as soon as the manacles were clamped back on his wrists. The plate of food that he’d been left remained on the floor, untouched. He thought that if he tried to eat it then he might throw it back up again.

It was a bleak, miserable existence. And somewhere, in another cell, his beloved mother would be subjected to it as well. All his fault.

Out in the corridor beyond he thought he could hear sounds out of the ordinary. It sounded like people fighting, swords clashing. There were yells of pain, heavy thuds where something hit the floor. Merlin didn’t care. He curled up on the cell floor, wishing that the noise would stop. It seemed so loud, pounding in his ears. Or perhaps that was just his own blood?

“In here!” someone said. They sounded close.

There was the sound of a key in a lock, of his door opening.

“It can’t be morning already,” Merlin groaned. “I’m so tired…”

“Merlin?” a man’s voice asked.

Merlin. Not sorcerer. It seemed an age since anyone had called him by his actual name. 

“Are you Merlin?” the man asked again.

Slowly, painfully, Merlin uncurled and rolled over to look at his visitor. It was a handsome blond man that Merlin was sure he’d never seen before in his life. He would remember this man if he’d seen him, Merlin was sure of that.

“Yes,” he managed. “Who’re you?”

“I’m Arthur Pendragon.”

“From Camelot?” Merlin gasped. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

“Never mind that now. Can you lift the curse?” Arthur asked. “If I take you with me?”

Merlin gazed up at him through pain-filled eyes. “Cenred has my mother.”

He saw Arthur’s expression darken with disgust. “I know. And we’ll take her too.”

“Sire,” the tall dark-haired knight who had been watching the door turned to protest. “He’s a sorcerer. We can’t trust him.”

“Look at him, Bedivere,” Arthur hissed. “He’s barely more than a boy. Cenred has his _mother_!”

“I was supposed to come to Camelot,” Merlin tried to explain. It was difficult, he kept having to stop to cough, catch his breath. “I was walking… one of Cenred’s knights took me.”

“I know. But Camelot is no place for a sorcerer,” Arthur pointed out. “What were you thinking of?”

“I wasn’t going to be a sorcerer…”

“You clearly are!” Bedivere snapped. “Sire, run him through, end the curse.”

“Gaius…” Merlin gasped. “I was supposed to be with him.”

“You’re the missing apprentice?” the other knight, silent so far, turned to look at Merlin who nodded hopefully. “We searched for you.” He glanced at Bedivere, then crouched down beside Arthur. “What was your village?”

“Ealdor.” Merlin realised he was being checked up on, but that the truth might save him. That, and Arthur. “My mother’s name is Hunith. I’m Merlin.”

“Merlin,” the knight repeated. “Good to finally meet you, Merlin. I’m Leon.”

Bedivere frowned. “That was over a year ago. This boy’s been here all that time?”

“We’ll talk about it on the way home,” Arthur insisted. He had a bunch of keys in his hand and was searching through, trying to find the one for the manacles. “We need to get out of here. Ah, this one!”

It was a wonderful feeling, having his magic released once more, even though it was painful for the first few minutes. And finally to have access to it on his own terms, without the threat to his mother always hanging over him. Leon had already taken the bunch of keys and gone looking for her.

“You look stronger already,” Arthur commented. “Can you stand?”

Merlin would have tried to run at that moment if Arthur had asked. He thought he might do anything Arthur asked. But for starters he simply got up, accepting Arthur’s help as he did so and leaning more heavily on him than Merlin would have liked. But he was on his feet, and the sickness from the infected sores on his wrists was already starting to fade.

“We may need to fight our way out,” Arthur warned. “If anyone saw us or raised the alarm then you might have to stand on your own. I can’t support you and wield a sword.”

Merlin nodded. “Don’t worry about me.”

He could see in Arthur’s eyes that he _would_ worry. Arthur Pendragon was as unlike Cenred as it was possible to be. Merlin thought he would have wielded his magic for Arthur with pride, gladly. But then Arthur didn’t seem the sort of person who would ask him to half-drown an entire kingdom. On first impressions anyway.

Leon met them at the door, Hunith at his side. “I’ve got her, we need to get out of here.”

“Arthur,” Hunith smiled, “it’s good to see you once more. I always thought you’d find my son.”

“Mother…” Merlin began, “I’m sorry…I had to do it.”

“Shhh, not now,” Hunith urged. “We’ll talk later. It wasn’t your fault.”

Merlin didn’t think he’d ever believe that. But she was right, they needed to concentrate on getting out of there.

Bedivere had run ahead, but came hurrying back with bad news.

“The main door’s been locked from the outside,” he told them. “We need to find another way out. Do you two know any other exit?” he asked Merlin and Hunith.

Hunith shook her head. “They’ve always taken me through the main door,” she said.

“And they’ll be waiting outside any exit anyway,” Arthur realised. “We’re trapped.”

Merlin’s magic was coursing through him, making him feel stronger with every passing moment. Ari had shown him so much magic, so many ways in which his talents could be weaponised. Of course, the intention had been to use it against rival kingdoms.

“I think I can help,” he offered.

Bedivere laughed, but Arthur and Hunith regarded him seriously. 

“Are you strong enough?” Arthur asked, all concern. Merlin liked him very much already.

“I think so.”

And it was wonderful, finally being allowed to use his magic for himself. He stretched out his hand, reached towards the locked door and _pushed_. The door flew aside as if it were paper, revealing a large group of men on the other side, all of the swords in hand. King Cenred himself was right there in the middle, Ari at his side.

Merlin heard Leon cursed under his breath. 

But the guards, and Cenred, could be pushed away just as easily as the door. Merlin performed the same spell and they were gone, thrown across the courtyard where some lay groaning in pain, others scrambled to their feet and ran. Cenred was amongst those rushing to escape. Merlin couldn’t see Ari and didn’t really care. He felt strong, as if he could defeat a thousand sorcerers.

“That… was amazing,” Arthur breathed. “Please tell me you’re on our side now.”

Merlin nodded, serious. “If you take me out of here I’m yours. I’d do anything. Anything.”

Arthur gazed at him for a long moment out of those beautiful blue eyes. Merlin thought he could lose himself in those so easily.

Leon coughed. “Perhaps later. Let’s leave before Cenred rounds up more sorcerers and starts fighting back.”

It was as good a plan as any.

\---

Camelot, on their return, was enjoying bright sunlight.

By the time they reached the castle, word had spread and people were out to greet them, cheering them home. King Uther was waiting on the steps, his face glowing with pride as he hurried forward to greet his son.

“Arthur!” he called. “I never doubted you!” He glanced at Hunith and Merlin. “But who are these people?”

“There were some prisoners, people who had tried to fight against Cenred,” Arthur explained. “We rescued them.”

“Among them was Gaius’ young apprentice and his mother,” Leon added, indicating Hunith and Merlin. “The one that never arrived here. The poor boy was in a bad way but he’ll be fine.”

Uther was barely listening to him. He put his arm around his son’s shoulders and led him into the castle. “Ah, Arthur, this is a proud day. We’ll have a feast in your honour…”

Arthur smiled. “Yes. But perhaps wait until after there’s been a successful harvest?”

Uther laughed as if that were a fine joke. The feast took place the very next day…

\---

“Merlin… Merlin…”

The voice had been echoing through his dreams for several nights, calling to him. 

The first night he’d been too tired to do anything, but it was getting insistent. In the end Merlin couldn’t resist. And then he had to meet Kilgharrah, hear all about his destiny…

“Arthur will be a great king,” the dragon boomed.

Merlin smiled, confident in his reply.

“I know.”


End file.
